


ὃν οἱ θεοὶ φιλοῦσιν ἀποθνῄσκει νέος

by IllusiveWritings, shipsnthenight



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman (Comics), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed (Video Game), Assassin's Creed Spoilers, Crossover, DC Comics References, DC movies, DCEU - Freeform, Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, pre BVS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2019-10-16 21:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllusiveWritings/pseuds/IllusiveWritings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsnthenight/pseuds/shipsnthenight
Summary: A trip in the deepest recesses of the dark warehouse of the Museum leaves Diana Prince, newly appointed curator of the Greek, Etruscan and Roman department of the Louvre, with an old and forgotten sword, a puzzling artifact that could possibly rewrite history, and someone that knows a little too much about her, and the artifact. Both women have much explaining to do, and even more to learn from each other.





	1. Prologue: χαμένος

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at summary bla bla bla.  
> For those waiting for an updato on The Quantum Particle Of Love, let me get this plot bunny out of my head and I'll head back to that too.   
> Also, thanks to the always amazing Shipsnthenight for the inspiration and the artwork. Sounded more like a challenge, but hey, who am I to refuse such an amazing opportunity to write about two of my favourite fandoms ever?  
> Also who am I to refuse to write about that amazing mass of beautiful pixels that is Kassandra?   
> Hope you all like it.

There were times when Diana Prince thought she had seen it all. Every bit of pottery, every rusty blade, every broken shield that had been unearthed in any excavation site, tomb and mausoleum in the Mediterranean area, everything. Some, she had even helped to bring out of its hiding place herself. 

Diana Prince loved history after all, and she had carefully chosen her line of work because of said love. That way, she had never felt like she had actually worked one single day in the one hundred years she had lived in Man’s World. But after one hundred years, in the end, she had come to think she had indeed seen it all, and much to her chagrin, sometimes she dreaded big shipments of new items to clean, date and authenticate, because most of the times she would find herself bored to tears, handling broken pottery of no significant value. 

Then, on a rainy day when she had little to nothing to do at her office, Diana Prince decided to shed the heels and the designer clothes in favor of a pair of broken down chucks, jeans and t-shirt and submerge herself in the immense underground storehouse beneath the Louvre. The backlog of items that had been amassed through the years was as long as the Equator line, there was the chance she could find something interesting among the oldest and forgotten finds, stocked in the deepest, dustiest parts of the warehouse. 

Torch in hand, protective mask ready in case the dust became too much to bear and a map of the area in the backpocket of her jeans, she ventured down the dimly lit hallways. 

“Hey, where are you going Diana?” asked one of the colleagues in charge of keeping the storehouse tidy and catalogued. 

“To find something interesting forgotten somewhere in here,” she said, not even stopping her stride. 

She heard the older man chuckle. “Good luck then, I doubt you’ll find anything of interest. Many have tried in the past, but they emerged only with dirty clothes and a wounded pride. Our catalogue is perfectly compiled and our warehouse in perfect state, as they always has been.” 

_ I don’t need luck.  _ She thought as she waved him off. “We’ll see.” 

She may had just been appointed as the curator of the Louvre’s Ancient Greek and Middle Eastern section, but she knew she could do more than just sign papers, authenticate pieces and when new shipments arrived, clean the pieces that looked the most interesting just because of her status as the curator. 

So there she went, looking for some adventure in the deepest recess of a moldy, humid warehouse. And before long she was completely covered in dust and grime, as she moved boxes and crates around, digging into old containers that had been placed and forgotten in that room a little after World War II, at least according to the faded and yellowed copy of the shipping manifest stapled on the old creaky wooden planks. 

“Perfect state?” she murmured as she hopped over a fallen piece of metal. “I’ve seen trenches in better conditions!”

And as she continued to jump over amassed boxes that lacked any trace of shipping manifests, dating or even a basic description of what was inside, mentally insulting every single unknown person that had allowed this mess to be made with possibly inestimable findings, she stumbled on a chest. An actual chest, probably dated around the time the fortress had become a museum, or maybe even before that, with an old rusty padlock and wood so dry and cracked she could nearly see inside, through the wide openings that time, unforgiving as always, had created on the once sturdy container. 

“Well, that’s interesting…” 

Diana knelt in front of the crate and yanked the padlock open. It was so old she didn’t even need to use much of her superhuman strength, it nearly fell apart in her hands the moment she touched it, then she pushed the lid open. Inside, there was a bunch of old yellowed cloth mixed with what looked like dry straw. Some kind of makeshift padding, she thought, inspecting the inside of the lid with the bright beam of the torch. There were markings inside, but she wasn’t sure if they were deliberate, left by human hand, or just by the old age. Rummaging through the padding, she found a number of old paper sheets, also yellowed and thick, almost leathery beneath her fingertips. 

They were filled with scribblings, words left by a rushed pen and cheap soot-based ink on the low quality paper, and they were in Greek. Not even close to Ancient Greek, her mother tongue, but not modern yet, something in the middle that was probably spoken between 1500 and 1800. It looked like an account of the raid of a tomb in Lakonia where the contents of the chest had been found and where the chest had been moved around Greece, Turkey, the Balkan Peninsula and then in post Revolution France, in the hands of a private collector and finally in the museum, when it was in its infancy. It had been probably forgotten there ever since. The last date written on the sheets was 1796, the likely date the chest had been forsaken deep down in the warehouse. 

Her curiosity peaked and she moved the padding around to reveal a sword. It was unusual in design and craftsmanship, apparently untouched by the time, unlike its container. “What in Zeus' sake?” she exclaimed, grabbing the hilt and pulling it out of the chest. It was light, as if made with titanium or a similar lightweight, modern metal, but given what she had read and its location so far down in the depths of the warehouse, she was quite sure it was made before aluminum and titanium became widely used by blacksmiths. It almost looked like Amazonian steel, now that she looked at it more closely, and felt like it too, not too different from her own sword and shield. 

Which had been made by a God. 

Could this be the work of Hephaestus?

That’s when she noticed a tiny but fine engraving, close to the edge of the blade. It was barely readable in the bright white light of the flashlight, but she could make it out with a little squinting. It was an old, forgotten language, one she knew only because she was an Amazon. It spelled:  _ Blade Of Damokles _ .


	2. αμφιβολία

When she emerged from the warehouse, covered in dust and century old dirt and holding her prized finding wrapped in the same cloth she had found it in and some modern pluriball she had found around the exit, the storehouse supervisor lifted his head from his paperwork and looked at her in disbelief. “You actually found something interesting in that pile of junk?”

“I’m not sure, Jacques. I just know it’s old and covered in rust,” she lied. “I’m not even sure of what it is, and I want to clean it up before I claim victory.”

“As mindful as always, Diana,” he smiled. “Good luck with it. Keep me posted!”

She nodded. “Thanks. You’ll be the first to know if it is indeed as interesting as I think it is.”

After leaving the warehouse, she immediately headed for the attached laboratory, where they cleaned and took care of restoring new pieces, and grabbed a dark blue protective coat from the hanger beside the door. “Martin?” she called the supervisor aloud. “Martin, are you here?”

The man, a young chemist with a passion for art that had devoted his chemistry degree to the preservation of the past for the enjoyment of the future, peeked from behind a protective screen. “Yes, Miss Prince. How can I be of service?”

“Please, just cold me Diana. Is there a table available? I think I have something interesting to clean up.”

“Oh sure, the one in the corner is free. All the solvents and cleaning agents have been replenished this morning too,” he explained. “Are you planning on staying after hours?”

Diana nodded. “Yes Martin, if it’s not a bother."

“You’re always welcome my lab. You’re the only one that puts the reagents back on the shelves!”

With one last greeting, he moved back to his work and let her go. She walked down the hallway, through a little maze of booths used to clean items and found the free one Martin had spoke of. She gathered a pair of plexiglas prop ups and laid the sword there, still wrapped, and the ruined pages on the surface beside it, before she went to gather the tools she needed to clean the sword and document the process, like a reflex camera to take pictures and a notepad to take notes. She grabbed a bunch of nitrile gloves too. Every station had a computer where she could log in with a personal account and immediately upload all her work in a cloud system if she desired so, but she had the feeling she would leave the thing off for that day, if not for cataloguing purposes.

There was something strange about that blade, and it wasn’t just the strange craftsmanship, it was an eerie feeling, like a zapping of electricity that coursed through her arm when she had wielded it. The fact that it was basically uncorrupted by time only fuelled that weird sensation she had felt the moment she had laid her eyes on it.

First thing first, she took care of translating the notings she had found. The six pages of scribblings were a cursory summary of the route the blade had taken. Found in a secluded cave on mount Taigetos in Lakonia, Greece, around 1650, then moved to Athens and stayed there until around 1769, transferred to Topkapi palace in Istanbul, then landed in Paris in 1796 through the Ottoman Empire. The notes ended there, so Diana concluded that the chest containing the blade had been deposited in the Louvre warehouse sometime after that date, but before the beginning of the through process of cataloguing its contents that had started in 1863. There was also a faded printing obtained pressing a thin sheet of paper on an etched tablet and using a charcoal pencil to transfer the etches on the sheet.

That was way more interesting but also disturbing at the same time.

It was Ancient Greek, in its classical form, doric variant. It was consistent with the location of the sword, in Lakonia, in the Peloponnesian peninsula. The etchings were faded, but she could make out some words. Those that stood out were Cult of Kosmos, Sage and a name, Alexios, followed by son, brother and friend.

 _The owner of the sword?_ she inquired, mentally, as she wrote down the rough translation of the tablet. But then why mention Damokles at all?

The story of a pandering courtier that for a day swapped place with his king to taste the uncertainty and the dread power intrinsically brought, by hanging a literal sword over Damokles head, tied by a horse tail hair. A gust of wind could have dropped the sword over Damokles as he sat on the throne, for that one day. A moral tale, nothing more, that was taught to children about the dangers of power. But what if that was the sword that had actually inspired the tale of Damokles and its sword? Had it happened, for real? Was this Alexios the famed Damokles of the cautionary tale?

But why not calling him by his original name? Moreso, why using such a strangely made sword? It was nothing like any type of sword she had ever seen, and from a purely tactical standpoint it was almost useless, it was unbalanced, too heavy towards the tip, too big and cumbersome to be useful in formation, as the Greeks fought traditionally. Maybe it was ceremonial, a symbol of something, of royalty or another status that this Alexios held, in Sparta maybe. Was he one of the ephors? Maybe a king? No, she would have recalled the name, she had studied the history and culture of the Mediterranean civilizations extensively, in order to fill her numerous banks.

And what was this Cult Of Kosmos? She had vague memories of a sect, something she had read in a fragment, assumed to have been written by Herodotus but never confirmed with certainty. It had been found on a fired clay tablet, among pieces of pottery in a shipwreck not too far from Thera, the ancient name of the island of Santorini. It spoke of a cult, said Cult Of Kosmos, spread throughout the whole Greek world, that plotted and conspired to overthrow democracy, headed by a certain Deimos, a figure described as godlike in powers and reach, and a mercenary that devoted her life to thwart their plans, the Eagle Bearer. There wasn’t much about the Eagle Bearer, except from the extraordinary fact that she was a woman, born in Sparta but raised in Kefalonia. That was it, that was the whole amount of notions they had about this mythical figure.

Could they be linked in some way? This… Alexios, the Eagle Bearer and the Cult Of Kosmos? Could the apocryphal fragment be true?

With a sigh, she grabbed some protective plastic sheets and used them to file the pages. She used the computer to generate the catalogue number and only then she moved to the sword. Slightly distracted by the many questions that had arose from the translation of the pages, Diana unwrapped the sword from the pluriball and the cloths and carelessly ran her thumb over the edge of the blade.

It was still sharp.

Very sharp. Sharp enough to cut through the glove she was wearing and her skin too. The unfamiliar sting of the cut startled her so much she yelped in pain.

_What the hell?_

Normal, humanly forged steel didn’t cut her. Swords, daggers, knife, no matter how sharp, couldn’t pierce her skin. Bullets could graze her, maybe hurt a little, but they weren’t dangerous. Sure, avoiding or deflecting them with her vambraces was better than having them pierce the skin, but she didn’t fear bullets, or blades.

Only Amazonian steel could…

With a soft grunt, Diana used a piece of tissue paper to wipe the droplets of blood off her fingers and changed glove, as soon as the small wound healed. That was a first. A shocking one, if she had to be completely honest with herself.

_What in Tartarus have I found?_

Even with the thin barrier of the blue nitrile glove, every time she touched the blade she felt that little zap of energy, like static electricity… it was unnerving. Like some sort of residual power that strange blade had once been infused with.

She had found it barely two hours earlier and suddenly she felt a sense of dread creep up her spine. That thing was probably going to make her lose sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, we'll try to update faster for upcoming chapters. Have fun!


	3. φόβος

The authentication process took months. Not only it was too strange of an artifact to be identified as coming from a certain location and a certain time period, its one-of-a-kind status made it difficult even to describe. 

Sure, Diana could simply translate the inscriptions on the blade, but the Linear A, as Man’s World called the syllabic writing system used by the Minoan civilization, had not been translated yet, let alone the system that came before that had been. Those inscriptions were written in a… spin off of what actually was the precursor of Linear A, that by current standard was even more impossible to translate, for mere humans. 

It was a language lost in time and space, a time before humankind walked on Earth. 

Technically, the language of the gods. 

Between that and the shape and craftsmanship, way superior from the time period it appeared to come from, many of her colleagues thought it was a fake item that had been forgotten in the warehouse. A minority of her colleagues and experts she had called for help though shared her feeling that there was much more to that sword than what it seemed and that maybe it had a place in the museum. 

Sure, it was odd enough to attract people, with the right marketing, but without an actual backstory attached to it, it would be just another piece of metal shaped like a weapon in a display case. 

And if she actually translated the text on it… 

No, no way. First it would out her as something more than just an expert in ancient Mediterranean cultures and their histories, because no way in Tartarus or Olympus someone could know that kind of language that had never been translated by anyone, but most of all the inscriptions itself spoke of something that would shake the world from its foundations and upward, destroying the very core of human civilization as it was. There was no need for humanity to crumble to pieces. After all, the outcomes of the publication of the actual translation of the inscriptions on the sword were two; one saw her reputation shattered beyond repair, her firing from the museum and the inability to find another job in the department. The other would be the beginning of the destruction of the very bases of human civilization, with its pillars, the story they had crafted and they thought was their history, the way the world came to be and how humanity evolved to be who they were, gone. Dust in the wind. And she was thinking conservatively! 

How would the world react to a person that can actually translate Linear A - and she could - but most of all how would they react to what was written in all those inscription that the world blissfully ignored because they couldn’t crack the alphabet? 

They weren’t ready. 

It took her weeks to decide to dismiss the markings on the blade as purely decorative elements, as she finally got down to write down the description to put on the plate that would be put in the display case, when the higher ups had finally given their permission to exhibit it in the museum. 

After a long time spent overly thinking about it, Diana simply decided to comply with the little facts she had at hand. It was a ceremonial sword, with little to no actual value as a weapon, but possibly forged to be donated to a notable Spartan warrior, or to his memory. She willingly omitted any reference to the tiny etching that spelled  _ Blade Of Damokles _ on the pommel of the sword, for a number of reasons. First, they were too little to be noticed, once the sword would have been placed inside its display case, and second, but even more important, it was written in the same writing system that had yet to be translated by normal human beings. There was no reason to push a narrative that she wasn’t sure of, that of the famous tale of Damokles and his hanging sword, if she had no substantial evidences to corroborate it. 

A ceremonial sword forged to commemorate the deeds of a warrior. And that was it. A new, interesting piece to show in the museum, something peculiar enough to attract new visitors, and that would be it. Sure, it was indeed quite strange in shape and craftsmanship, which was exquisite by the way, but there was no need to overblow the story to exaggerated proportions. 

Too bad the marketing department had other ideas, and that they didn’t coincide with hers at all. 

They unleashed a lengthy and astonishing marketing campaign that did indeed blow out of proportions that ended in a grand reveal in a black tie event that had absolutely nothing to do with art but was more about money and politics, which of course she was forced to attend, not only because she had found the item herself, but because it was her area of expertise so of course every single person that had even just a gram of interest in ancient art would go look for her for questions, though she doubted there would be many interested people at the party. Not only she would have to spend the night in an uncomfortable dress and high heels surrounded with people she had no wish to meet, but she was also bound to receive a barrage of questions, some related to the focal point of the event and others… not so much, all the time. Journalists had been invited, of course, so there would have been a press coverage too. Oh she would be so happy to put up the fake smile for hours...

_ Why the hell did I go in that warehouse in the first place?  _ She thought as she grabbed a flute of champagne from a tray held by a waiter in a stark white frock coat that slowly walked past her, after she had done explaining for the umptenth time what had happened and how fortunate she had been to make such a peculiar discovery just lying around the deepest recess of the museum warehouse. 

If only she could speak freely of how much of a game changer that sword was, in reality…

Diana was finally distracted by her thoughts when she noticed someone standing in front of the display case and staring intently at the sword it contained. It was an attentive stare, not a distracted cursory look at an artifact, the woman in front of that case was looking for something. 

_ Strange, everyone seemed more interested in the open bar than the display itself _ , she thought taking a sip from the flute and observing the scene from a relative distance. The woman, in her middle to late thirties, was dressed quite casually, in a black pantsuit and white dress shirt rather than the flamboyant dresses other women had worn that night, herself included, though she was more on the conservative side, trying to find a little bit of comfort in elegance. Between her choice of clothes, the simple messy side braid, the broad shoulders that stretched the jacket of the suit she was wearing and the intense stare fixated on the case, that woman was probably the only person in the room that showed some real interest in the sword. Maybe she could be someone interesting to talk to, after all. 

Carefully, Diana walked closer and stood at her side. “Found something you like?”

The woman nodded. “Yes. A remarkable piece. Never seen something like this before.”

The thick Greek accent wasn’t lost to Diana’s ears. “From which part of Greece do you come from?” she asked, using modern Greek instead of French. 

“I was born in Sparta, but I grew up in Kephalonia. The plate says it was found in a cave on mount Taygetos in the seventeenth century then brought here more than a century later, do you have an idea where it was during that time?” 

Diana shrugged. “Unfortunately, when we found the chest it contained only a short summary of its movement in time. I contacted the Topkapi Museum in Istanbul and they have sparse records of an item matching the description being held in their warehouse for two decades in the late eighteenth century, but that was it. It was probably passed around private owners, as it seems it was found during a raid in a tomb.” 

She nodded again. “I see. It’s a shame a piece like this has been hidden in warehouses around the world for centuries. It should have been exhibited sooner.” 

Diana felt a strange shiver run down her spine as the unknown woman spoke. There was something in the way she spoke, an inflexion in her voice and her wording that reminded her more of Ancient Greek than modern, like she was a natural ancient Greek speaker and had learned modern Green only later in her life.  _ How could it be? _ she wondered, but pushed the thought to the back of her mind. 

“I agree. Whoever made this really poured all his abilities into it. I bet the blade could still hold the edge.” 

“I would be surprised if it wasn’t still sharp as back then,” the woman quipped in reply. A slight twitch in her left eye told Diana that she shouldn’t have said it and was regretting it.

“Back when?” she prodded. 

The woman shook her head and smiled. “Oh nothing.” She extended her hand. “I’m Kassandra, by the way.”

Diana grasped it and shook it vigorously. The woman had a bonecrushing grip that took her by surprise. “Diana.” 

“Oh I know who you are. Youngest curator in all history of the Louvre Museum. You’re a bit of a celebrity.” 

She felt herself blush a little. “I wouldn’t say celebrity. More like a dedicated worker?”

“Fair enough. Were you a dedicated worker even in 1918?”

She felt her blood turn to ice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh but you do, Diana.” She had slipped to Ancient Greek. “I’m talking about Belgium, the war, the trenches, about the gas and the fight at the German air base. About everything that happened next.”

Her eyes were cold as steel, her face a barely concealed mask of wrath, while her voice managed to remain strangely amicable. For the first time in a long, long time, she was scared. How could she know about Belgium? No one, not even historians, knew about that night, how could she?

“Who exactly are you?” she managed to whisper through the thick lump of fear that had formed in her throat. 

“Who I am is no concern of yours, now tell me where you found my brother’s sword.” 

Diana looked around, carefully. Everyone seemed pretty engrossed in whatever conversations were going on among the small groups scattered around the great hall, no one would have noticed if she left the event. “This isn’t a matter we should discuss in such a public place. Come with me, I’ve got a lot to explain.” 

“Yes, you do”, replied Kassandra, blunt as a club in the back of your head, but at least she followed her to her office. 

_ Please don’t let her be another messenger from Eris… _

__


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, got the flu, my bad. I'll try to be faster with the next chapter.

The click of her heels in the large hallways, followed by the lower pitched thump of Kassandra’s steps behind her was unnerving. As Diana walked towards her office, with the very angry woman following her like an eagle would stalk its prey, she grew more nervous with each step they took and startled visibly when she closed the heavy wooden door when Kassandra shut it. 

“Alright, now we’re not in such a public place. Explain!” she ordered, stern. 

Diana walked around her desk, to put something between them, like a shield. “Oh but you have a lot of explaining to do yourself!” she replied, in the very same tone. “How do you know about 1918?”

“And where the hell did you find my brother’s sword?!”

“How can it be your brother’s when it was found in late 1600?!”

“And how can you be alive when you were like what? 25 in 1918?” 

Diana sighed. Things were quickly escalating to a screaming contest in Ancient Greek and while her office was a good distance away from the hall were the event was taking place, she didn’t want eavesdropping ears, not when she was trapped in a heated argument with someone that knew about her true past. If they went on like this no one would explain anything and they would only go on in an endless circle of questions that had all the chances of going on all night long. She pinched the bridge of her nose then extended her hand. “Sit down.” 

“No thank you, I’m fine standing!” came the peremptory reply. Kassandra was going to be a tough bone to chew.

“Very well.” She did sit on her office chair, instead, trying to temper down the pressure that had built in the room. “On my part, I did find the sword in the warehouse. I found it in an old chest hidden in the back, I swear, that part is real. Even the sword’s travels, they were summarized in some notes I found with it. What I wrote on the plaque is true. I can show you.” 

Kassandra nodded and started pacing up and down the office, in front of the desk. “No mention of a tomb?”

Diana shook her head. “None, but I guessed it came from one, given the ceremonial look of the sword.” 

“It wasn’t ceremonial, my brother really used that thing.” She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, eyes closed. “And I did too.”

“How? It’s heavy and cumbersome and…” 

“I know!” snapped Kassandra. “I know it doesn’t look functional, but it works if you have… a certain ancestry. You can feel it, if it works.” 

_ What the… _ then she realized it. “You mean that... electric zap whenever you wield it? Is that how it works?” 

The woman turned towards her so fast she could almost hear her neck snap. “You feel it too?” Diana nodded. “That means… you’re a Tainted One!”

_ What in Tartarus is she talking about?  _ “A Tainted what?” 

Kassandra waved a hand in front of her face, dismissing the question. “That’s not important now. Can you read the incisions on the sword?” 

“Of course I can!” exclaimed Diana.

Clenching her fingers in tight fists, Kassandra spun on her feet and let out a scream of both anger and frustration. “Malaka!” she swore, loud and angry. “I should kill you right now, you know that?!”

“You can try!” snapped Diana just as angrily. “But if you only let me finish, you would now know that it wasn’t anything new to me or that I have no intention of divulging what they truly mean, and I doubt anyone will ever get to understand what those writings stand for in a long, long time!” 

Kassandra drew a long relieved breath and finally collapsed on the chair on the other side of the desk. “Thank Hera!” she sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “But, wait a second… you already know?” 

Diana leaned on the back of the chair, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I know. Is it that strange that I know about the gods, considering I was alive in 1918? Isn’t an abnormal lifespan weirder than the knowledge of a dead language?” 

After a moment of reprieve, the other woman nodded. “Fair point. Now I guess you want to know…”

“How that can be your brother’s sword? Yes!” exclaimed Diana, finally smiling at the absurdity of the situation. “Come on, I haven’t gone and revealed to the world about the gods and how they created humans and their downfall, I think you can trust me a little!”

Kassandra leaned back herself and sighed again. “I guess I can. But I think I’ll need some more booze for that. It’s going to be a long night.” 

“The open bar is still there if you want to grab something, I’ll wait here. And get a change of clothes,” said Diana, already moving towards the small bag she had carried with her, with a change of normal clothes to wear after the event. 

“Yeah, maybe I will. Want something?” asked Kassandra as she stood up. “By the way, gorgeous dress!”

Diana blushed a little. “Whatever you’re having,” she replied, quickly grabbing her clothes and ushering her out of the door so she could change, to try and hide the slight embarrassment brought on by the slightly flirtatious comment.  _ What the hell? _ she thought while Kassandra walked out of the door. “I’m not picky about alcohol.” 

“Good. See you in a minute.” 

True to her word, the mysterious woman was back in a very short time. She walked in just as Diana was putting the dress up in its designed hanger and then into the protective plastic sack. “Wow, you were fast…” Then she turned around and saw Kassandra setting not one but two bottles of whisky and two glasses on her desk. “You went straight for the bottles! Did they let you get them both?” 

“And who said they let me?” she replied, uncorking the bottle of Laphroaig and pouring some in one of the glasses. “I just took them.” 

“And no one batted an eye? Pour one for me too, thanks.” 

Kassandra obeyed and pushed the now filled glass towards her. “No one saw me, that’s different. You should work on subtlety too, Diana.” She sat and got comfortable in the padded leather chair. “That stunt you pulled in 1918… way too public! And 1984? I wonder how many more outings with that costume you have under your belt!”

“Armor, not costume. And not many more. Some during World War II, but I’ve had normal jobs all my life.” They clicked their glasses together. “But how do you know about them? That’s what I want to know.” 

“Let’s say that… In my abnormally long lifespan I’ve seen things, Diana. Many things. I’ve seen empires rise and crumble, heroes come and go, but what I hadn’t seen was you. You were the variable I couldn’t predict, you came out of nowhere. I’ve kept an eye on you, but I wonder what are your intentions.” 

“So you too… How old are you?” 

Kassandra smiled, briefly. “I was born in 453…” 

“Wait what?” Diana couldn’t believe her ears. She knew there were beings that could live up to a thousand years roaming around in the world, but that was older than herself, for all she knew that woman should have been an Amazon to obtain such a lengthy lifespan.

“...Before Common.” 

That was it. She couldn’t believe it. With a jerk, Diana brought the glass to her mouth and downed the whisky in one gulp. “It can’t be!” she exclaimed, the burn of the spirit still burning her throat. “You can’t be older than me!” 

Kassandra shrugged as she reached for the bottle and poured her some more. “How old are you?” 

“By standard years roughly two thousand years old, how can you be…” 

“Two thousand four hundred and sixty eight years old?” She took something out of the pocket of her jacket and something in her hand started glowing of a golden light, and a long, intricate staff resembling the depictions of Hermes' staff from the books of her childhood appeared in her hand. “Thanks to this. It’s a powerful artifact, and has kept me alive and well for way beyond my time. What about you?” 

Diana shook her head and tried to regain a minimum of composure in front of such a marvel. “Divine intervention…” she said, her voice a little strangled.

Kassandra’s face twisted in a puzzled frown. “You mean… like Jesus' immaculate conception or…” 

“More literal. I’m Zeus' daughter.” 

It was Kassandra’s time to reach for her glass and drink. “Now I don’t believe you! Come on! The old man’s been dead for ages!”

“Uh, I assure you he is alive and well… for all I know all the beings the Greeks identified as gods are alive, except for Ares.” 

“And what makes you so sure?” 

“I’ve killed him!”

* * *

Three hours and a number of bottles deftly stolen from the catering later, Kassandra and Diana had sneakily relocated to the underground lab, where they were sure no one would ever come to look for anyone once the event would finally come to its end and the museum would be closed for the clean up before the regular opening.

And they were both smash drunk out of their pants. Not literally, but sure they had past the line of inebriation that was considered tolerable in social gathering. They were sitting on the ground in one of the cubicles, far and hidden from the main door just in case, with everything related to the sword laid down on the floor between them, so Kassandra could examine it. 

She was observing the crude printout of the etching mentioning Alexios and the Cult in its plastic cover, smiling. “I wrote this, you know?” she explained. “When my brother died. By Spartan law, he had done nothing to deserve a name on his grave, so when he died I did the next best thing: I burned his body on a pyre on Mount Taygetos and buried his ashes with the sword and that tablet. I hoped that way that someone one day would find the crate and say his name again, so he wouldn’t be forgotten, but at the same time, I really wished no one would ever find his burial site so I would be the only one to remember him and what he’d done…” 

“And what precisely did he do to deserve oblivion?” asked Diana, pouring some more liquor in Kassandra’s now empty glass.

“Well… he was a mass murdering war machine, brainwashed from infancy to believe he was some kind of deus ex machina of an organization that wanted to impose their view and influence on the world. He was a walking and talking weapon, to make it short. It took a long time and a lot of efforts to… educate him to live in a world that didn’t worship him like a god.” 

“Did you make it?” 

She shrugged. “Yes and no. He adapted, but you can’t really change someone’s personality that much. He was a tough, headstrong idiot down to his last breath. But he was my little brother, and I loved him, so I did my very best to turn a self centered asshole into a decent human being.” She paused for a long moment and drank some more whisky. “So… daughter of Zeus uh?”

Diana nodded, slightly embarrassed. “As far as I know… Either that, or I’m just very lucky and I aged well.” 

Kassandra laughed. “You and I both, Diana. I wonder if that’s the reason Aletheia couldn’t see you, even though she predicted pretty much everything that has happened in human history.” 

“Aletheia?” 

She nodded. “Yes, I’d say it’s some sort of artificial intelligence left by the First Civilization, you know… those that were here before humans. They kind of created it, actually.” 

“So you mean the Gods?” 

Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through both their bodies, but Diana could tell that Kassandra was sluggish in her thoughts. 

“Well, sort of. You see… oh it’s a damn long story and I’m way too drunk to explain in a comprehensible way, just… yes, I’m talking about the people us humans call the gods, but they’re dead now.” 

“No they’re not! Not everyone at least! I know for a fact that at least Hephaestus is alive, because he made my sword and shield like what, thirty years ago?” 

“Oh come on it can’t be possible! They should be dead by now in general, they weren’t immortal after all.” 

“Then why in Tartarus I am!” exclaimed Diana. “I know for a fact I can be killed, but I don’t age, Kassandra, and that’s a family tract, even my mother doesn’t age.” She paused for a long moment. “No wait, I think she does age a little bit, just… way slower than a normal human, but if this First Civilization you speak about is in fact what humans thought were the gods, then it’s wrong.”

“And who’s exactly your mother?” 

“The Queen of the Amazons!”

“Oh no come on those were a myth!” laughed Kassandra. “They were a myth even when I was a child!”

“Oh my mother would slap you so hard if she heard you!” burst Diana. “Pass the whisky, this is going to be a long story!”

* * *

It was morning when they finally got to the end of the respective tales, to the point that Diana had to literally clock in to work. The perks of her divine ancestry gave her a better resistance to the effects of alcohol, so she wasn’t feeling too bad, while Kassandra was nursing one of the worst hangovers of the century, her words, as Diana worked at the table, cleaning a piece of pottery at one of the lab tables. 

“So let me get this straight, you think that the Gods, the actual Gods like Zeus, Hera and those malakas and whatnot, were there before the First Civilization and they are the first creation that got destroyed during a war with Ares, who also happened to be your brother, and after that humans rose from the ashes of such war and that there are some specimens of First Civilization trapped on an island called Themyscira which is actually magically hidden and that’s where you come from?” 

Diana nodded. “To summarize this whole clustermess of a theory in the fewest words possible, yes, that’s my theory. It’s the only way we can explain my existence with what we know. The Amazons are what remain today of your First Civilization and yes, I’m a Tainted One by your standards. Does that make us… relatives in a way?” 

Stretching her neck, Kassandra sat on a table. “Almost, I guess. You’re way more tainted than me though. Girl, you’re pure blood, not a lowlife mixed like me!”

“Yeah, sure, I’m a straight A Slitherin student and you’re a Griffindor…” rebuked Diana. “Jokes aside though, really, it’s the only way we can make it work. I don’t make sense in your story and you don’t make sense in mine, but if we blend the two… we get a little bit more of sense out of something that makes none.” 

“You know what, Diana? I’m tired, hungover and I’ve seen enough crap in my life that I actually don’t care too much of what happened in the past. I’ve got a very sensitive scale to balance, a tip here and a nudge there, the future is what matters the most, don’t you think?” 

“Always looking forward for the newest adventure, aren’t you?” asked Diana, turning around to face Kassandra. 

“I’ve buried enough people in my life, if I keep looking back, I’d only see an infinite graveyard of people I cared for and loved. It’s dark and grim, but the future? There’s always hope in the future, there’s always light. The past can be a good compass to follow, but the future, and the present, are what I’m here for. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn that sometimes memories hurt more than the joy they bring.” 

Diana sighed.  _ I think I’ve learned it a long time ago. _

_ _

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I suck. Sorry. Have fun!

That night was the beginning of an intense friendship that took the two women all around the world. Kassandra lived in Santorini but travelled a lot because of her  _ job _ , and she tried to visit Paris as often as she could, while on the other hand Diana could travel anywhere she wanted, anytime. And booking a trip to Athens or other places in the Aegean Sea area wasn’t much of a problem, given her line of work. 

Or, in cases when she couldn’t justify the charging of a plane ticket to her office, she could just fly on her own. She just needed to remain below radar detection height and no one would bat an eye. Not that they would see her, at the speed she could move. 

Kassandra took her to visit many of the places left by the Old Ones, some of the artifacts she had managed to gather once they had exhausted their powers or purpose, brought her to secret hideouts of the two sects that had been fighting over those artifacts for millennia, which often forced the two of them to commit crimes - mostly trespassing - and bribe their way in, like the hidden chambers and culverts in the Vatican City, or in Masyaf, Syria, where one of the sect held their stronghold for centuries, Firenze and Istanbul, Paris even, in her own workplace. There were places, nooks and crannies nearly invisible to the naked eye, or better hidden in plain sight, that held a wealth of knowledge about this underground war that had been secretly waged for centuries that no one had been aware of. 

Then came the Isu Temple, right beneath Santorini, or as Kassandra called the island, Thera. With the centuries, Kassandra had dug a tunnel that led straight from the cellar of her own home to the underground temple. It was easy enough to get there from her home, but there was also an underwater entrance, but the way was tricky and it required extensive deep cave diving expertise. Also, it was uncharted, so she really doubted someone would even think of trying to sneak in that way. 

The Temple made Diana feel a little at home away from home. There were diagrams and writings left by the First Civilization that truly supported her theory that, in fact, the First Civilization Kassandra spoke of was nothing but the first men, those created in the image of the Gods, that Zeus created, the Amazons among them. Diana was able to show her things that only someone that had come in close contact with the First Civilization could know, or, like Kassandra, had been induced to it via more unconventional ways, like the Staff she always brought with her. 

Diana even met Aletheia, or at least her virtual conscience, inscribed in the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus wielded by Kassandra and then  _ decrypted _ , for the lack of a better word, by the complex system akin to a contemporary quantum computer. The AI was shocked, again for lack of a better word, to discover that there were still members of the First Civilization alive, albeit stranded on a magically protected island not even that far from Thera. The conversation that sparked between the AI and Diana was almost surreal, but very informative for all of them. 

The last place the older woman took Diana was the place where her adventure had begun, her personal Odyssey Kassandra called it. The hidden cave beneath the Temple of the Apollo, in Greece. The sacred place of the Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi, where the Cult of Kosmos gathered. 

Now reduced to nothing more than an empty hall covered in dust, with cracks everywhere and more structural weaknesses than rooms. It was a ruin, nothing more, but no man or woman had set foot in there in centuries, according to Kassandra. Apparently, she was the only depository of the knowledge of how to enter that place, and she hoped they would be the last to do so in a long, long time. 

“So what did exactly do the Cult?” asked Diana when they reached the main hall and walked closer to the short marble pillar that stood in the middle of it, now dilapidated.

“Except for trying to sell the Greek World to Persia not once but twice, and then trying to veer the Peloponnesian War towards the total and utter destruction of everything decent people stood for when they couldn’t succeed, not much,” said Kassandra. “No, really… they were highly influential people that did abominable things to reach their goals, that went from simple bribing to cause rebellions in the population by starving them, and everything in between. Killing, stealing, smuggling… you name it, they did it. I shed more blood while hunting them down than most battles in the Peloponnesian War. They tried to stop me, they did despicable things, but I’m no saint Diana, I often used the same methods to get where I wanted. Subtlety wasn’t my speciality at the time.” 

“Is it now?” she asked. “You nearly tried to murder me in front of that glass case, remember?” 

Kassandra sighed and her shoulders sagged a little. “I’m sorry Diana, I was very upset that night, I spoke without thinking.”

“It’s not a problem Kassandra, really. We got something good out of your brashness, after all.” 

She nodded. “Yes, definitely. You’re the first true friend I’ve had in… I don’t know, ages.” 

“Same here, Kassandra. Now come on, tell me about this place.” 

* * *

On the other hand, Diana showed Kassandra many of the places related to the Amazons still scattered around Greece and the Aegean Sea. The Shrine Of The Amazons, the stories told on bas reliefs in temples, what was true and what was myth, some artifacts recovered that historians along the way had misplaced but indeed belonged to her people and culture, mostly weapons and armors or what remained of them, buried in the rubble of the destruction of both the war against the first invasion led by Steppenwolf and the War Of The Gods, the events that Kassandra knew with other names. She had showed her writings that had never been translated and that told those stories from a perspective Kassandra didn’t even know existed. 

She even showed Kassandra the way that could be used to reach Themyscira, overlapping ancient and modern maps, how the currents changed suddenly and without logical reasons in a specific spot of the Aegean, because there was an island there, an uncharted and invisible island surrounded by a thick magical fog. 

“Sounds a little preposterous, don’t you think?” said Kassandra, as they stood on the beaches of Keramidi, one of the more direct spots to sail from in order to reach Themyscira. “Have you ever tried to go back?” 

Diana shook her head. “I can’t.” 

“You mean, literally? You can’t get back?” 

“No, not literally. I know the way back, it’s just that I can’t  _ go _ . There are laws… once you leave without permission, and that means deployment of troops, you can’t go back.” 

“And who deploys troops?” 

“The Queen, my mother.” 

“Ouch… and she didn’t give you permission to go back? Or to leave? It was the Great War, come on!”

“She had no material evidence that there was such a large scale war raging away from the island and… she was always a tad overprotective with me and she wanted to keep me away from the horrors of the war I guess. Also, her opinion on Man’s World was a little skewed, given her personal experiences.”

Kassandra shrugged. “I guess… Anyway, one of those artifacts I told you about, it was right here and…”

* * *

They fell in a sort of routine made of both programmed trips and impromptu visits. Sometimes Diana would pop up in Santorini for the weekend, when the weather in Paris was gloomy and miserable, or Kassandra would show up at Diana’s office, unannounced and carrying a bottle or two of wine that she more often than not would drink by herself. 

For the first time in ages, they both had someone who could understand the struggles of an unnatural lifespan and everything that came with it, and they enjoyed each other’s company immensely. Sometimes they would go hiking around in Greece, looking for places still unknown to archeologists but that Kassandra knew how to reach so she could show Diana bits and pieces that people still ignored about ancient history, so she could better understand Man’s World and all its different shades, even though, after almost a century living in it, she had got quite a grasp of it. 

Still, there were lesser known details and events that Kassandra had witnessed in person that allowed Diana to fill in some of the blanks and get a better understanding of the world she lived in, but in which she still felt like a stranger. 

In the meantime, they talked. An endless stream of words that seemed to flow effortlessly, words that often led them to dark corners of their long lives. Like that time on top of the Parthenon, hidden away from unwanted watchful eyes of guards, as they looked at the bright sunrise above Athens. 

“Was there ever someone special?” asked Kassandra at some point. “You talked about this soldier crashing on your island trying to escape the Germans, but you never even told me his name.” 

Diana felt a shiver run down his spine. “Yes… Steve. He was… Special, as you said.” 

“How special?” 

“Enough that I still grieve his death,” snapped Diana. “I… I think I still love him, even though he died in 1918.” 

“But… You haven’t been by yourself all this time, right? I mean… it gets lonely after a while.” 

“No I haven’t been all by myself but he was… something different. Something more.” 

Kassandra huffed. “I think I understand. There was someone like that even for me… more than one to be honest. Have you had children?” 

Diana shook her head. “No. You?” 

“One, Elpidios. He grew up in Egypt, with his grandfather.” 

“You weren’t cut out to be a mother?” 

“No, I mean… maybe? I have no idea, but it wasn’t just that. It’s just that with the type of life I lived wasn’t the best for a child. His father was murdered because of me, and I didn’t want him to die like Natakas.” 

“Must have been hard.” 

“What? Natakas being murdered? Not much. No wait, it was. He was special in a different way. He was a kind person, and he was also a Tainted One, it was more of an opportunity to continue the bloodline than love. There were others… more important for me.” 

“Like?” 

“There was Daphne, Kyra… and Taletas…” she said, blushing. 

“At the same time?” asked Diana, eyebrow shot up in an puzzled look. 

Kassandra laughed. “Yes, at the same time. I was a wild child, I have to say it! Ah, well, the list is long, before, during and after the war, but I guess the most important of all was Brasidas.” 

“Wait a second, that Brasidas? The Spartan general?” 

She nodded. “The one and only. Told you, I lived a wild life. You should too, Diana. Let it go a little, don the armor more often, go public! Come on, you can do way more than just conservation of fine arts! Why don’t you team up with Superman?”

Diana smiled and ran a hand through her hair. “We’ll see, Kassandra. I don’t really think it’s the right time now though.”

That lasted until late March 2016, when, after an escalation of violence and deceptions, Superman died. In the battle against the monstrosity that killed him Diana had felt compelled to come to the aid of the superhero she had admired from afar for a long time. 

The battle itself, though of apocalyptic scope considering the destruction it brought, was the easy part. The aftermath was way, way worse to deal with. 

Diana had just cleaned up and changed in civil clothes when she noticed an incoming call on her phone. No sound though, it had probably been damaged in the midst of the battle, since she had found the bag in the rubble. The call came from Kassandra. 

“Hey, how are you?” 

“Malaka Diana!” came a scream from the other side of the line, possibly the Ocean. “I’ve been trying to call you for three hours! What the fuck happened?” 

“A major mess, that’s what happened. And I’m sorry, I think my phone’s broken because the sound doesn’t work, that’s why I haven’t answered.” 

“Are you alright though?”

Diana nodded. “Yes, I’m fine, a little banged up but that’s to be expected, a couple of hours and I’ll be back to normal. After all I’ve taken the longest shower ever since Dachau and Auschwitz, I can say I’m fine. It’s Lois though, she’s not fine.” 

“Wait, who’s Lois?” 

“Superman’s girlfriend… she’s… she’s not fine. I just managed to calm her down enough so she can sleep for a while. It’s been a long night for her too.” 

“I see. Let me just say that watching it all happen on the CNN wasn’t that short for me either. Do you need me to come over? I can hop on the first flight to Metropolis if you need me.”

“No Kassandra, it’s not necessary. I’ll be home in a couple of days I think, just… why don’t you come to Paris for the weekend?” 

“I’ll book the flight right away, hoping this won’t be another of those events that stops all aerial traffic for weeks afterwards.” 

Diana laughed softly. “In that case I’ll ask Bruce Wayne to send his private plane to pick you up.” 

“Wait, what? That Bruce Wayne?” snapped Kassandra. “Don’t tell me you hooked up with him because…” 

“Oh for Tartarus' sake no! He’s not even my type! Let’s just say he owes me a big one.” 

“You’ve got a lot to tell girl. Come on, I’ll check the flights, you get yourself some rest. I also need to check in with Aletheia, you never know what wisdom she could deliver about this whole thing. Call if you need anything, alright?” 

“Will do, don’t worry. See you home.” 

“See you home. Oh, and hey, Diana… welcome back.”


	6. Chapter 6

Days went by, turning into months, piling up into years. Large and small battles were fought, new metahumans joined the  _ little band of freaks _ , as Kassandra called the Justice League and intergalactic invasions were thwarted. In the span of a couple of years, the world had learned to live with the perspective that one day or another, they would probably be in dire need of superheroes, and they seemed to get along well enough. Criminals weren’t exactly happy about the sudden increase of supers, but that wasn’t much of a problem for them. After all, history taught that there would always be criminals and there would always be crimefighters of some kind, vigilantes included. 

Diana got into a sort of balance, managing to keep her day job at the museum and her side gig as Wonder Woman, even though sometimes her colleagues wondered where she had disappeared. Rumors started going around the corridors, that she had some kind of tryst with a mysterious guy from overseas and the random disappearances were just hookups when he was in town. 

She laughed at those rumors, because she knew they were well meaning. Most of her colleagues knew she was single, some of them even knew about Steve, though a modified version of what had happened and they thought she was still mourning the love of her life, but that didn’t stop them to try and set her up with a guy, or girl, from time to time. Some had even been interesting enough to go on a second or third date, but most of the time, it ended with a polite handshake and a goodbye. 

To be honest, she hanged out more with Kassandra than anyone else, even the League. Maybe because they were closer, after all Paris and Athens were just a few hours of flight away, but the sense of kinship she felt for the Spartan woman made her enjoy her company immensely more than the others. Not that she didn’t like them, it was just… different. 

Then, one crispy day of late October 2018, came a call from Kassandra. 

“Chaire!” chirped Diana.

Her voice was met by silence. “Kassandra? Kassandra can you hear me?” 

She heard a long, low whisper on the other line, as a long sigh being drawn. “I can, Diana, I can…” whispered Kassandra then. “I… It’s time, Diana. They’ve found me.”

Diana froze on her office chair, her blood turning simultaneously into fire and ice. “What do you mean they found you?” 

“Remember when I told you about Abstergo and the technology they have developed?” 

“The one about reliving the memories of a person through their DNA? Yes, I remember, but that does that mean?” 

“They found my spear, my grandfather spear, the one I gave to Herodotos when I didn’t need it anymore. They extracted my DNA from it, they know everything, about Atlantis, Aletheia, the Isu, about me, how I lived for so long… everything.” 

Diana was speechless. They had discovered the possibility, as remote as as it was, that one day someone could dig enough that they would find out about the truth behind the legend of the Eagle Bearer, but they had never thought anyone would come so close to Kassandra and her true identity. “Wait, how do you know? How can you be sure?” 

“Because they found the Temple, Diana. There’s a woman, I’ve kept an eye on her for sometime now… she’s found a way in, probably the flooded caves.” 

“And you think…” 

“That she’s the  _ Keeper Of The Memories _ ? Yes, I think she could be the one.”

“Kassandra, don’t you dare to pass that Staff to anyone, understood?” boomed Diana, bolting away from her desk and out of the door. “Don’t you dare!”

“Diana, I have to! If she’s here, it’s because my time is up.” 

“No you don’t!” shouted Diana again, trying not to be noticed as she basically flew on the way home. “Kassandra, don’t… don’t do anything you could regret. This isn’t something to take lightly, this is your life we’re talking about! Listen, I’m coming. Wait for me, we’ll talk and see what we can do.” 

“Diana,  _ we _ can’t do much.  _ I _ , on the other hand, have something to do. My life has been extended far beyond what’s natural, you know that. And if I have to be honest, I’m tired of carrying the weight of humanity on my shoulers. Even by Isu standards, I’ve lived too long. It’s time for someone else to carry the weight of the world.” 

As she entered Diana felt her heart break into a million tiny pieces, like sharp crystal shards. “Kassandra, talk to me. I can help you bear that weight, I was created for that, remember? Being  _ the bridge to a better understanding _ must mean something! Just… wait for me!” she pleaded  as she frantically wrestled with her armor. “Just give me a few minutes, I can be there in…” 

“Don’t, Diana. It’s time. Whatever you’re going to say, you’re not going to change my mind. This isn’t something we can do together, you can’t help me with this. This is something I must do alone. Diana I…” Kassandra’s voice broke, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. “Diana, getting to know you was the best gift this Staff has given me, watching you rise from reluctant hero to beacon for humanity was a joy, your kindness and courage have given me hope that one day there will be a better world, thanks to you and your friends. You’ve been the best of friends, the greatest drinking buddy and the funniest travelling companion, our treks and hikes around the world won’t be forgotten anytime soon, no matter how much water I drink from the Lethe. Diana, be your best, the world needs you. I hope I’ll never see you in Elysium. If I’m worthy of a place there, of course.” 

“Kassandra, stop…” 

“Don’t be sad, tonight I will dine with my family. And you should too, no matter what those stupid laws say. Diana I…” Her voice lingered for a long while, tense, before letting it all go in a long, breathy sigh. “Goodbye, sister.”

As she heard the distinct note of the hanging up, Diana felt her heart crack in a thousand little pieces, just like the phone she crushed in her hand with a scream, in the vain attempt to go faster and reach Santorini before her friend could do anything permanent.

For the first time in her life, she cursed her  _ limited _ superpowers and wished she could be as fast as Barry, or better Clark. She could keep up with Flash on foot, albeit barely, but flying? That was Clark’s realm, no one could best him. And damn she needed his speed in that moment. 

_ Malaka! _ She internally screamed as she finally reached the open sea beyond the Peloponnesian peninsula. She could see the island, and once she was within reach she dove into the deep blue waters and swam blindly in the underground tunnels that connected the open sea to the Isu Temple Kassandra had showed her years before.

She was angry. Furious even. How could Kassandra willingly choose to end her life like this? There was still so much she could have done for humanity, even from the shadows, she had one so much through the ages, why stop now? Why give up on her dream to see a world united and peaceful? It didn’t make sense!

Finally, she started swimming upwards towards the opening in the temple. Out of pure rage, she grabbed her sword and shield, ready for battle, ready to face any foe that could take her... friend away from her.

_ I have lost Steve, I won’t lose you too! _ she screamed into the water as she finally leaped out of the pool with a fountain of drops that showered around her.

Only to see Kassandra already collapsed on the floor beside a younger woman, her hair grey, her face ashen and pale as she had suddenly aged to advanced age. Her voice too, sounded frail instead of her usual tone. “Γαία, μάτηρ παντός, χαίρε…” 

Kassandra turned towards her, a weak smile twisted her face in a grin that broke Diana’s heart all over again, before she let her head fall in the other woman’s hands, exhaling alast shaky breath. 

Too late. She had arrived too late. Again, she had lost someone she loved because she was too late, too slow, too focused on something else. The inner turmoil of anger and despair doubled over, like a raging fire that suddenly acquires more fuel and explodes in a thunderous cloud of flames and smoke. 

“KASSANDRA!”

Her anguished scream echoed in the large chamber and scared the woman, who jumped away from the body with a start, just to cower behind a rock when she landed with a loud stomp on the stone floor, cracking it beneath her feet. She let go of both shield and sword, they fell down with a loud clatter that covered the gasp that escaped her lungs when she fell on her knees beside her friend’s body. She felt the sting of tears behind her eyelids and did nothing to halt their fall, she sobbed loudly as she framed Kassandra’s face, still warm, still  _ alive _ to her touch and leaned her forehead into hers. “What have you done…” she whispered in Ancient Greek. “What have you done my friend… why did do this?” 

Lost in the sudden wave of grief that washed over her, she didn’t notice the woman staring at her and jumped a little when she spoke. “Wonder Woman?” 

At the sound, all grief and sadness seemed to disappear from her mind and soul, replaced by the anger that had exploded just a moment earlier. With a grunt, she let go of Kassandra and with as much speed as she could muster, she was on the other woman, gripping the lapels of her jacket and lifting her off the ground and against the wall. “Why?” she screamed. “Why did you have to come here? Why wouldn’t you let her be?” 

She didn’t feel even a hint of compassion for the scared little being in front of her, at her mercy, not even when her eyes filled with tears of fear. All positive emotions and empathy seemed to be gone from her, only a murderous intent lingered in her mind in that moment. 

“I… I had no idea! I didn’t know she would die!”

“You knew how the staff worked! You knew it only works when you own it, once you let it go, once you pass it to someone else it doesn’t work anymore! You had no right to come here, you have no right to that Staff!”

The girl stammered, babbled incoherently pieces of words in at least three different languages but couldn’t form a cohesive thought, so scared she was. Diana gripped the jacket even more, almost sure she had damaged it in some way. “Tell me why!”

“I don’t know!” she yelled, crying. “I don’t know I swear, I don’t know why she handed me the Staff, I didn’t know she would die like this, I don’t know what she wanted from me… I… Let me go, please!” 

She did. With a final shove, she let the crying woman go and she fell on her knees on the floor with a thud and the clank of the Staff. Diana walked away, drew a deep breath and ran her fingers through her damp hair, pulling at the strands until her scalp ached. “Who are you?” 

“Layla Hassan, I’m with the Assassins…” she gasped, dragging herself up to a sitting position against the same wall Diana had her pinned just a moment before. “I was looking for the Staff, to help the cause…” 

Diana scoffed. “I know how you people work. And your Templar friends too. Do you understand that… thing can bring ruin to the world? The Staff and all other artifacts connected to it?”

She nodded. “I know very well what they can do. I’ve seen the effects they have on people, sometimes witnessed them with my own hands. Listen I… I know I’m not ready to replace Kassandra, but I can learn!”

“And you better learn fast!” With a sigh she turned towards her and held out her hand. “Come, we’ve got things to do.” 

The woman grabbed her hand and she helped her up to her feet, before turning towards Kassandra. “What are we going to do with her?” 

“We give her coins for the ferryman and burn her so she can reach Elysium and be with her family,” stated Diana. “Many people are waiting for her.”

The woman nodded. “I know… I… I saw it, in her memories.” 

Diana scoffed again. “You only saw a fraction of what she has done, what she has accomplished. Man’s World would have collapsed many times, if she hadn’t intervened. Have you thought about the responsibility you were going to have, once she’d give you the Staff?” 

“I thought she could come and help me, to be honest.” 

For the first time since they had met, she felt a pang of sympathy for her. She was just as scared as she was angry, after all. 

“How the hell do we get out of here?” 

Diana knelt beside Kassandra and picked the body up, effortless but with reverence. “Come, there’s a passage that leads to the surface. It’s going to be a tough climb.” 

* * *

It took some help from Bruce to finalize Kassandra’s funeral plan. They had spoken about it, for both funerals just in case things went horribly wrong somewhere in the future. Diana knew what the Eagle Bearer wanted, and she really hoped she could make it happen. A boat to the mainland and a hearse up to the Amazon Temple in Beotia, close to the now dry riverbed of the Thermodon. It took hours of tensed silence and nothing more between Diana and Layla, both women either too angry or embarrassed to talk to each other. They cooperated, silently, but nothing more. The guards of the site tried to stop them in their intent, not wanting to lose their job, but the moment they noticed that the actual Wonder Woman was walking up the stairs, they decided it wasn’t the right time to adhere so vehemently to their duties. 

The killer stare she shot them was probably one of the many reasons they backed away and let them be. 

Still in complete silence, Diana assembled the funeral pyre and made preparations for the funeral. It was the hardest thing she had ever done, even facing Steppenwolf in open battle had been easier. The lump in her throat made breathing difficult, every movement was impaired by the thick knot that twisted her guts so tight to the point it was painful, the tears stung her eyes like the smoke of the fire she still had to light. 

Tears that only decided to fall when she did indeed light the pyre. 

“Do you have two coins?” she asked Layla as the flames slowly caught and the smoke started to rise from beneath the wood. 

The younger woman startled, and then shoved her hands in her pockets. “I think I have a couple of pounds. I was in England, before I came here. Will they work?”

“Any currency will, don’t worry,” explained Diana and then placed the two coins on Kassandra’s eyes, pausing for a moment to take one last look at her friends, before stepping back and let the flames do their work. 

It took a long while for the fire to catch on the pyre. Time they spent watching the flames envelop the body and slowly burning it to ashes. 

“What will you do now?” asked Diana. 

“I… I don’t know. I think I’ll have to learn more, go through more of her memories, see more of what she has done in the past, to understand what role I’m going to interpret from now on.” 

Diana nodded. “Good idea. If you care for what I have to say, I think you bit more than you could chew, Layla.” 

“I think so too. I wasn’t ready for this, I’ll be honest. I never thought she would relinquish the staff so easily.”

“She was tired, Layla. She was over two thousand years old, she had seen more death than life, lost too many people she cared about, she couldn’t take it anymore.” 

“She had you, at least. You’re immortal, aren’t you?” 

Diana nodded. “I don’t age, yes, but I can be killed. Just like her. And I’ve known her only for six years.” 

“I see. So… what are we going to do?” 

“Us? Together, nothing. I’ve got enough things to worry about on my own, and so do you. I’ll defend humanity from anything that comes from the magical world or other worlds, you protect humanity from itself. That’s what Kassandra did.”

“You say it like it’s easy.” 

“I never said it was easy, I said that’s what she did,” she replied, laconic. “Are you staying until the fire is done?” 

“Will you let me?” 

Diana thought about it for a moment. Did she want Layla here, in her last moments with Kassandra? 

She took deep breath and sighed. “Yes. You can stay.”


End file.
